Cryptic
by Wendy Pierce
Summary: Dark brown hair. Check. Gorgeous green eyes. Check. Know-it-all smirk. Double check. "He wasn't supposed to be there. He was assigned on the same mission to retrieve the same item but in a different place for a completely different purpose. Or was she the one who was off?" Zammie.


**This story disregards the plot of Gallagher Girls (which is totally rude of me because it is an awesome series) and Zach and Cammie have never met or at least had any recollection of it.**

**PLEASE do ignore my wording towards the end of the story; the wording becomes worse because I was rushing to get it all out and done with. **

**This is my second time writing for this fandom so please, no flames of any type.**

**Disclaimer-I don't own Gallagher Girls or any of its characters. Ally Carter does.**

* * *

It was only an hour until sunrise. And all types of creatures were lingering in the night. One person especially had slipped out of the darkest shadows of night and into the moonlight which was too bright for her liking.

Her internal clock told her that it was midnight. She glanced at the sky, where stars were wonderfully displayed. But she didn't care. The beauty of that night wasn't as important as her _goal_ of that night. She disappeared back into the safety of the shadows. Ahead, a large industrial district was coming in to sight. The district was completely shrouded in trees-barely visible to the naked eye. This made a good cover for people who weren't supposed to be there. This also included that woman.

She was there on a mission, a mission that was so simple that it couldn't be messed up. Ever.

She stopped in front of a fence. That very fence had at least all the security surveillance known to man. The woman pressed her hand to her ear, where a comms unit was placed. "Bookworm, I'm going to need you to hack into the security system so I can safely maneuver my way into the buildings."

"Which gate are you at?" A soft voice rang in her ear.

"The west gate."

"You've got it."

In a matter of seconds, the west gates flew open and a voice in her ear said, "Got it!"

The woman smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. "Thanks, Bookworm." She entered, the gates quickly and quietly closing behind her. "I couldn't have been through the gates if it wasn't for you."

Silence filled the other side of the comms. Either there was something wrong with the connection or her friend, her only back-up, was far too busy to talk. "The main building is in the east. If my co-ordinations are right," Which, of course, they always were, the woman thought. "You have to keep heading straight."

"Okay." The woman moved her hand from her ear and continued walking forward. She had chose to start at the west side of the complex because she knew that at night there would be less guards to worry about.

And then she, perhaps the second most coordinated person she knew, besides her best friend, who shall remain unnamed, ran into a wall. But it wasn't a wall. But a person.

"Watch where you're going, miss." A groggy, deep voice said.

"I could say the same thing to you." She muttered, brushing some blonde locks out of her face.

The tall, lean man smirked. "Let me guess; you're here for a mission too?"

The woman stared up at the man, worry in her eyes. "What mission?" She shrugged, pulling out a gun and pointing it in the man's direction. "I'm on a patrol-you shouldn't be here."

The man laughed. He too heard the lie. It was a good try though. "You're here to retrieve a disk, I assume."

The woman held the gun to his temple. "It is more than just a 'disk' if you ask me."

"It is. It's just filled with a bunch of-"

"The Gallagher Academy alumni list is more than just a disk filled with any names." She snapped, her fingers on the trigger. She could pull it and watch the man, whoever he was, fall to his knees, dead. Then all her worries could wash away and she could complete her mission in peace.

He laughed again. "I'm on the good side, _your_ side, sweet heart." He pushed her hand down, the smirk never leaving his face.

"Who goes there?" A voice, a different one, cut through the darkness. Instinctively, the two agents pressed against a wall. They waited for a short, harmless looking guard to pass by before stepping back into the moonlight.

"I've seen you around before." She nodded towards him, taking in his appearance: Dark brown hair with deep green eyes-eyes that can look into your soul-and a cocky smirk to top it all off.

Another voice came from behind them, alarming the two. Together, they sprinted around a corner.

"You have?" He questioned, ducking a security camera that loomed ten feet above their heads. He took her arm (not in the romantic way, though) and pulled her into a dark alley where they were safe from guards.

"Yeah," She continued as if she always had a casual type of conversation on an occasion-which, as a spy, she doesn't. Her gaze met his for a moment-nothing more. Her mind traveled back to where she could have possibly seen that man before: there was this time, in Rio, where she was hunting down a mole with eyes like those; that one mission that required her to go undercover as a college student (which, at the time, she already was one) and one of the young men she thought to be the suspect of the murder of a former president had a voice like his. But that was not the man who she held hands with at that moment. He was someone else. "Weren't you the agent who was reportedly said to single-handedly take down a group of former KGB officers by only using a book?"

"It was an encyclopedia; get your facts straight." He hissed under his breath. He checked the perimeter before ushering her down the next rows of buildings, where they ducked more cameras and any guards that were happening to be patrolling that area. "I don't think you have that amount of clearance to hear the rest of the story."

She skidded to a stop, forcing him to stop as well. "I have you know I have a high enough clearance to know the things I want to." She cocked a hip and raised an eyebrow. "Otherwise I wouldn't be _here_."

He sighed, evidently annoyed of her. "Look, you and I both know we don't have the time to show off to the other. Now come on." He jerked on her arm but she didn't move.

"No!"

"What was that?" A guard that stood thirty feet in front of them whirled on his heels. He looked in the direction of where the two agents stood, confused. Because they were already gone.

* * *

"Don't you know better than to cause a commotion like that?" The man snapped.

"Well, if you didn't treat me like I was some dog, then perhaps I'll get a change in perspective."

"Women." He let out an exasperated sigh.

"What are we doing in the north? I need to be in the east!" She said in the matter of someone who really didn't want to be there.

"What do you mean north?" His eyebrow increased in confusion. "This is the south."

"No; it's the north."

"Whatever." He shook his head. "Don't you need to get to the east?"

"I _was_ heading east. At least until _you_ came along."

"I'm here to help." He said as if that would make her trust him. But it didn't. Nothing did.

"I don't need help. I'm fine on my own." She shrugged, walking in the direction she thought to be east.

"That's north!" He called.

"I don't care!" She called back. He trudged after her, irritated by her stubbornness. Which he found somewhat adorable.

Loud, mechanical laughter sliced through the night. "That's where he is!" The girl exclaimed, heading towards the sound.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it'?" She continued walking, ignoring the man who was trying to match her stride. But she had always been a fast walker so there was no way he could fall into step with her without jogging.

"What, are you just going to arrest him with no-"

"I already have a plan, wise guy." She stopped suddenly, the man running into her.

"It doesn't seem like you do."

"Well I do." She said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to take down whatever minions he has, corner him, and take back the disk that belongs to the Gallagher Academy."

"This Guggenheim-"

"_Gallagher_." She corrected.

"-Academy seems too important to you. May I ask why?"

"You just did." She turned to walk away but his hand was on her shoulder, forcing her to face him. His green eyes were filled with disbelief and annoyance. She sighed. "Because _I_ was once a Gallagher Girl myself."

She didn't want to admit it to him, but she felt comfortable blurting it out. Even though he was a random (but totally hot) stranger. Even though she may have heard stories about how this man was a 'legend' and all and she had just met him. "What's your name?"

The man looked slightly taken aback by this. But he responded nonetheless. "Cryptic. And you?"

"Chameleon." She drew a breath. If he used his codename, it would only be professional if she did so too.

"Sir, I believe there's someone outside!" Chameleon turned to Cryptic, her eyes wide.

He forcefully pushed her around the corner of the building, where she wouldn't be standing in eye sight, and took cover himself. "Do you have a girlfriend?" She questioned. "Because the way you're treating me says no."

His hand was on her mouth, his body pressed against hers, and her back on the wall of a building. He cut her a look that said to be quiet. She obeyed, her eyes wandering to the corner where a guard was standing, looking. At them.

"You two-this is a restricted area!" He warned, pointing his gun at the two.

Cryptic cursed. He grabbed the woman's hand. For a moment, Chameleon was under the impression that the man had wanted to get her in trouble. Because, instead of running _away_ from the guard, they were running _towards_ him. The man swiftly kicked the guard in the shins, punched him squarely in the face, and slapped a Napotine patch on his face for good measures. Chameleon checked her utility built. Cryptic had taken her patches when she wasn't looking.

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice behind the two asked. They turned, and saw the enemy.

* * *

There are some advantages and disadvantages to going on missions. The advantage is that you can save humanity from crashing (even though humanity is already ruined and there's no point in fixing it now). A disadvantage, however, is accidentally running into an agent who probably wasn't assigned to be there in the first place, losing your sense of direction because of said agent, and getting caught by the enemy all because the agent who you ran into decided to be sloppy.

Chameleon was not happy with this unfortunate turn of events. And she had the man to blame. Cryptic, the woman thought. She had seen his files before in the Director's office. His name was labeled on the file besides hers, though instead of 'Gallagher Academy', 'Blackthorne' was imprinted on the cover. She remembered that day- the excitement and rush of adrenaline she had felt because she was being assigned on a mission; the cold, hard stare the Director was giving her as he slide a manila folder in front of her; and then, tucked under the Director's arm, she saw another file. _Cryptic's_ file. She had thought it was nothing-a pigment of imagination. But her, being the spy she was, took in every detail she could visibly see.

Blackthorne. It couldn't have been the Blackthorne Institute for Juvenile Boys, could it? But then Chameleon thought harder and realized: If Cryptic had been given a mission in Blackthorne, it meant that he knew the school very well like she knew The Gallagher Academy. Or that he had once _attended_ that school. Meaning that he could be one of those said juvenile boys and that she was working...with a criminal.

But that didn't seem to make any sense, so she thought of another possible explanation. She had heard of Blackthorne, and how its been said to be just like The Gallagher Academy.

Wait a minute.

The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Women-a school for spies.

Chameleon felt a piece of the puzzle fall into place, the solution getting closer.

The Blackthorne Institute for Juvenile Boys.

If Blackthorne is just like Gallagher, that meant...

The Juvenile Boys was the school's cover, meaning that The Blackthorne Institute was a school...for spies.

But what the heck was Cryptic trying to achieve? He wasn't supposed to be there. He was assigned on the same mission to retrieve the same item but in a different place for a completely different purpose. Or was she the one who was off?

**(WARNING: This next part is so awful that I totally wouldn't mind if you skipped it to reach the end. Seriously-go ahead.)**

Millions of questions that needed to be answered raced through Chameleon's mind, though she didn't ask any. Because she knew that no one there would reply.

Cryptic wasn't too far from her-she was tied to him, in fact. Maybe he had some answers. She drew a breath to speak, but was interrupted.

"If you're just going to ask questions I must likely won't answer, I suggest you keep your mouth shut." Snapped Cryptic, not even shifting his gaze to meet hers.

She groaned in frustration. "Well, what do _you_ suppose we do now-give up to the enemy?"

"Now that I know that you think so little of me, I think I'd rather die."

Chameleon elbowed him. "What is it that we do?"

He threw his head back and laughed playfully. "You're cute."

"You might think that now, but might I remind you: I once broke out of a top-secret facility in an unknown place without any back-up. And I escaped before a bomb went off."

"Please, I've done far more impressive things than _that_."

"Like what?" She knew better than to get lost in a conversation in a time like that, but curiosity had taken over and she couldn't help it.

"Like get us out of here." He nodded towards a ventilation system in the corner of the room. "Gas fumes are very deadly and very helpful in making an escape. I knew something like this would happen. So, earlier this morning, I managed to fill the ventilation system of this building."

"So you can kill us?" She interrupted.

"_No_." He dragged the word. "This man that is holding us captive is quiet dumb, actually. Everyone knows that if you're going to capture someone, you must strip them of all their belongings."

"Your point?" She asked impatiently.

"When he leaves to check the perimeter of the building, I say we distract the guards, knock them out, retrieve the list that he foolishly had decided to leave on top of that shelf, and when he returns, we'll be gone."

"What about the gas fumes you set up, wise guy?"

"You didn't let me finish!" He half-whispered, half-yelled. If any of the man's minion overheard the two agents' discuss their escape plan, they'd be in more trouble than they already were. "We'll have to run far enough so the fumes won't affect us." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key chain with a red button.

Chameleon was to lost in thought to hear him ask, "How's that for a guy you just meet?"

"You sound really cocky." She concluded.

Chameleon, desperate to go home, agreed with Cryptic's plan. It wasn't that bad of an idea, once you thought about it. Cryptic had been thinking ahead of the mission so he wasn't as sloppy as she thought he was. He was deliberate and rather thoughtful.

Once the enemy had walked out of the building, due to some security breach according one of his minions, the two agents convinced the remaining guards to come over. Chameleon had thrown several questions their way, none of which were important, but enough to pull their attention from Cryptic, who had managed to wiggle out of his bonds, grab a pipe that had been conveniently laying around, and knock them both out of consciousness.

Chameleon looked from the two guards to Cryptic. She nodded. "Nice."

Cryptic helped her out of her bonds (regardless of her protests) and slipped the disk from the highest self since he was taller than her. He held the small disk to her. "I believe this is yours?"

She snatched the disk from his grasp, tucking it under her belt. Then she took his hand and lead him out a window. The two ran as far as they could, never looking back at that building. Not even when a loud voice boomed, "Where are they?!"

Cryptic pressed the button on his key chain. He didn't need to turn around to know that a cloud of green smoke had shot out of the vents, and poisoned the enemy-whoever he was, anyways.

Chameleon waited until they were out of the industrial district to turn to Cryptic. The rays of early morning light was evident behind her but all that mattered that moment was the mysterious man that stood in before her. "Okay, what gives?"

"What do you mean?" Cryptic leaned against a tree, a smirk etched on his face.

"Why did you interfere with my mission? It's called _my_ mission for a reason, you know."

He laughed. But nothing was funny to Chameleon. "The Director sent me here. Originally, I was assigned to be a high school teacher at Roseville High. I can't tell you why, though, because-"

"I don't have that amount of clearance to hear the rest of the story." She said, throwing his own words back at him.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Anyways, I thought that it'd be a lot of fun to tag along on the mission-"

"That wasn't even yours to begin with."

"And take down some bad guys." He continued as if she hadn't interrupted him. "This mission was a piece of cake, really."

"It would have been, had you not came."

He shrugged. "At least you weren't in Chicago during my mission-people there sure are rowdy!" He leaned closer, smiling mischievously. "And here, I got to meet you."

His fingers grazed her cheek. Her heart stopped beating. She didn't know how to react: melt into this stranger's touch or hurl him to the ground. But she was too frozen to do anything.

"Tell your little friend I said hi." His breath was warm on her face. She realized that he was talking about her friend that, until that moment, she had forgotten was on comms unit with her.

Chameleon gasped. He was _good_.

"Maybe I'll see you again." Cryptic sent her a wink before running off into the forest that stretched out behind them.

She watched him walk away, never once turning back to look at her. She then continued on a path of her own, only one thought running through her head.

_Who was that?_


End file.
